


Jessica Jénya

by Kayla_Edwards



Category: Normality - Fandom
Genre: Absent Parents, Anonymous Artist, Art, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Emotional Abuse, F/F, F/M, Feminism, Internal Conflict, LGBT, M/M, Mental Health problems, Mexico, Non-binary character, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, Physical Abuse, Racism, Refugees, Religious Conflict, School Violence, Sexism, Strong Female Characters, american school, character discovery, general fuckery, poor education, self hatred, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-31 17:38:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayla_Edwards/pseuds/Kayla_Edwards
Summary: The story of Jessica Jénya, member of a fictional band in my head - “Normality” - and her journey.





	1. Newborn

**Author's Note:**

> Hai hope you enjoy !

“Es un niño!” (“It’s a boy!”) a modulated voice surfaces, pitch bouncing around the ears of a weeping mother. Body stuttering, her arms extend in hesitation, eyes following the movements of her newborn child. She ultimately decides that she wants the child in her hands, in her care; she moves herself forward more forcefully this time, forearms out stretched in a way that wasn’t inviting further discussion – the child is handed to her hastily after that. 

Muffled sobs make their way out of her bitten lips when her soft hazel eyes meet the chestnut ones of her baby, the latter paying no mind as he explores the world anew – streams of lights momentarily blind him, everything overwhelming him in the most amazing way. 

“Has pensado en in nombre todavia, señorita?” (“Have you thought of a name yet, mam?”) lingering in the corner of the unusually small room, leaning against the broken wall a nurse continuously watches the mother in disconcerting focus. They held eye contact for a few moments until the mother looked back to her child; she follows up with a distant answer, too distracted to give much notice to the nurses bizarre behaviour. 

“Jason, Jason Jénya”

While the mother dressed in a floral huipil inspired summer dress; her child clad in only a serape, the array of colours and patterns successfully entertain the infant as his parent fills out the necessary paperwork in order for them to depart the hospital. 

It has been 6 hours after the birth of Jason, however for his mother it had felt like only a few moments ago she had brought him into this world – an expression of adornment remaining snug on her youthful face. 

Orange, yellow and reds dance around the room while mother and son patiently wait for the last arrival of the family – Mr. Jénya. Although the exhausted mother would like to make her way home she acknowledges how dangerous the journey would be for herself to make alone – she waits for Jason’s father to take their other two children, Zenna and Amór, home before coming to the hospital. 

Jason’s hands reach out in curiosity, palms connecting with the warm surface of a window – an unfortunate metaphor for the freedom Jason will want, will fight for and the captivity mixed with anguish that will push him to do so. 

Time passes and before Mrs. Jénya realises her husbands voice drifts to their ears. “Cariño,” (“darling”) wife and husband share a moment before his eyes drop towards the baby, “nuestro bebé, nuestro hijo” (“our baby, our child”) he says in astonishment, making his way towards his family. “My, my son” he says in harsh, potentially incorrect, pronunciation. 

Their first moments as a family is cut short by an impatient grunt from the obstetrician (pregnancy, childbirth specialised doctor). 

Heading down the streets of México, Jason remains entertained by the variety of street art and diverse noises/sounds; his mother continuously holds him securely against her chest, hold becoming disconcertingly tight when she follows her husband down a side street leading off the main road and rather unpleasantly towards multiple rundown properties – what appears to be a loud gunshot cause the Jénya family to quicken their pace. 

After some rattling keys and the sound of numerous locks cracking open the Jénya’s make their way through the doorway as fast as they could manage , Mr. Jénya glancing around before shutting the bolts on the inside of the door – double checking the security before following after his wife. 

He finds her folded folded in the corner of a sofa couch, baby leant against her thighs with their head lolled back to meet eyes with the unusually tall child towering above the mother and newborn – a consistent feeling of serenity washing over the household. Calm. Love. Warmth. It was all the family felt for those few seconds – then the power cut off and the house erupted into chaos.


	2. Relationships

A group of years pass and the Jénya’s only grow in quantity, a set of twins being delivered two years after Jason’s birth – 5 children now inhabiting the same mangy property. 

The years pass and Mrs. and Mr. Jénya multiplied the distance between themselves and their children, they set up barriers and masks that their offspring would hurdle through in an attempt to have a relationship with them. This pushed their parents to put up the ultimate division in the household: communication. As a couple, they drop the Spanish language abruptly and all relationships in the household adapted to the sudden change. 

Their eldest sibling, Zenna, steps up as a substitute parent to his siblings when his parents begin attending a night law school. Along with a combination of other questionable decisions Zenna finds themselves Looking after their younger siblings. They leave school and take over duties at the same decaying house they’ve known since birth. 

As a family they spent the days on the roof of their home – avoiding the cold atmosphere that nestled deeply inside the walls bellow and the unintelligible foreign language that would only make them feel more inferior than they already do. Instead they bask in the unity they felt when alone together.

One of Jason’s earliest memory was laying down in his eldest siblings arms; staring at the lowering sun and having what he thought was his brother explaining what non-binary meant and why they wanted – needed – Jason to understand was okay. From then onwards Jason would make a point to never call Zenna his brother, rather his sibling. 

“ cómo te sientes está bien, Nunca dejes que nadie te diga algo diferente. Yo siempre te apoyaré.”  
(“How you feel is okay, Never let anyone tell you something different. I will always support you.”)

Kate and Lisa, their newest siblings, needed the most support. Their relationships with their elders were complex in a way that even they didn’t understand; Their skin was several shades lighter than the other children – with no explanation – and rather than being taught the language of the country they were living in they were taught English. 

Unfortunately this caused multiple underlined issues between all of the children. From the birth of his sisters to now Jason understood that to achieve the love of his parents he had to become what they wanted – and they wanted American children. 

Zenna made his way towards his sisters and brothers – none of which paid them much mind. They placed bowls of rice in front of Amór and Jason; when Amór pulls a spoon to his mouth he ignores the frozen, bland taste that wraps its self around his taste buds; instead he puts on a gleeful face for his siblings. 

All the children lay back on the cement, allowing the angry noises of the street to violate their ears; Zenna’s arm finding its way around Jason’s waist, his soft voice fighting through all the noise just to dance around Jason’s ears. 

“No importa lo que siempre te amaré”  
(“No matter what I will always love you”)

That along with the supporting look Amór sent his way Jason knew in that moment he could be whoever he wanted to be, even if that meant not being who everyone wanted him to be. 

No one would have been able to foresee the impact this statement would make on the person it was directed at, the freedom it would encourage the person to seize.


	3. Twins and Amór

Colours wash over the family once again, night rapidly approaching along side it the shades. Three out of five of the children were already unconscious, wrapped in thick blankets and a warm, comfortable atmosphere. 

Wind whistles gently around the random objects on the roof, creating a soft song for everyone to relax to. The sounds mix in with the consistent pitch of Amór’s accent and the tender hum his older brother makes every so often. 

Zenna’s fingers run through the shoulder length curls of Jason’s hair; occasionally glancing down at the neutral expression set on his face and wondering when the face that holds that expression won’t be riddled with discomfort and general melancholy. 

“He wants to study mental health in America” Amór explains, Kate and Lisa’s heads laid across his thigh. “I was thinking we could team up, me and him, ya know?” The twelve year old gushes – face angled at the ground, hiding his grin. 

The eldest hummed along once again, absently, already having heard about his brothers new infatuation many times over. They didn’t mind though; rather enjoying this new side to Amór – who was usually unsociable – unsure and uncomfortable, several thick walls put up to protect himself. 

When morning returned Zenna made their way towards the twins bedroom; eyes scanning the surrounding area before making their way through the door – swiftly.

Several months earlier Mrs. and mr. Jénya had taken Zenna aside and explained to them why they no longer want Zenna – or the other children – to associate with the twins. The three children obeyed for a solid fortnight before caving in to their sisters, finding ways to see them without their parents being aware. This becomes increasingly difficult as time passes by. 

Looking down at the four year olds, arms secure around each other. For a moment they just appreciate the innocence of the two. 

Kate is the first to rise, bold green eyes staring into Zenna’s like they hold all the all the answers. She takes a second to fist at her eyes, smiling before greeting them in English; that’s when Zenna pulls up some pre-owned Spanish children’s book. 

Just as Zenna goes to say the first sentence they feel fingers grip the base of their throat, a forceful yank pulling them away from the twins and towards the door – instantly being shoved into the wall opposite the door. 

They yelp when the first fiat connects with their right cheek.


	4. Zenna and Fay

At first the unexplained violence thrown at Zenna spooked him; it left him puzzled with a blanket of shame coating his body. As the attacks became more regular Zenna found themselves adapting, accepting the hostility as normal – unaware of the moulding of their personality. 

They spent an increasing amount of time away from the household, the toxicity burrowed inside the empty space becoming too overwhelming for anyone living within the walls. They take one of their siblings out as much as they can, unnoticed – which wasn’t hard considering the lack of concentration on the eldest three, all rather being directed at the twins.

However much Zenna tries give the children a stable household they always find themselves giving miles of leeway for all of the kids; hoping that in some dreamworld this will make everything alright, knowing deep down it won’t. 

This is the statement Zenna would put forward to explain why there were children wondering the street on their own – regardless of the time – and vaguely why they needed the escape, the freedom. 

Amór is the first to spend a weekend away from the toxicity; escaping the intense atmosphere in favour of a few days in bed with Fay – his boyfriend. The family having taken a liking to the regular visiter, briskly accepted the boy as an extension of their own family. 

Jason, who was now aged 9, would spend his evenings dilly-dallying through the streets he had now familiarised himself with; he was aware wondering the areas which surrounded their home alone was voluntarily endangering himself but he had soon realised he was numb to the concerns of anyone – including himself – when one painting sprayed across the brick wall could sedate his brain, even just for a moment. He would risk anything for that feeling of peace and safety that only art could provide.

Pulling out a crumpled strip of newspaper Jason begins to copy down a quick sketch of anything he finds inspiring, continuing once they’re done. 

While making his way through various courses obstacles he finds himself being drawn towards a particular location, eyes drifting towards his upper left, swiftly locking on two figures waving enthusiastically from the windowsill when Jason spots them. He gives a short wave along with a nod before he finds a pathway through the jam of people and takes it suddenly – disappearing into the sea of people. 

“Jay on the hunt for arte callejero” (“street art”) the older of the two questions, arm slung around the shoulders of the taller thirteen year old; both their eyes attempting to follow Jason among the other people – but both aware they’re going to lose him to the street in a matter of seconds. 

Taking a moment to shift his body towards the warmth, Amór hesitantly replies with “El necesita” (“he needs”) Fay raises a hand to cup the others cheek, dismissing the previous answer with a shake of his head. “English” their eyes meet, Amór’s hand laying over Fay’s, splayed across his thigh. 

“Ingles, Amór” he repeats, watching the other one cave. 

“He, he needs, ah” He pauses, putting a hand to his forehead in concentration and irritation. The smaller of the two encouraging him with a soothing hum and patient smile. “A, um, distraction.” 

Fay grins, punching the shoulder of the other boy. Amór looking away sheepishly, face flushed salmon in embarrassment. 

After some bursts of giggles a current of discomfort rains down on the pair. Breathing irregularly, Fay makes an effort to ignore the sniffs that come from the other side of the windowsill. 

“He,” Fay’s head snaps back to its original position, this time laying it down on the shoulder of his boyfriend. “He’s pintura (“painting”) now” Amór’s voice cracks in an unfamiliar way to Fay, both faces twisting in pain for different reasons. 

“He paints metáforas,” (“metaphors”) Fay wraps both arms around him, head falling to rest against his chest – now feeling the rumble of every breath he takes. 

“Metáforas (“metaphors”) about feeling atrapado (“trapped”), feeling…” his facial expression turns sour, “feeling Mierda (“shit”)!” He cries. 

“se odia a si mismo”  
(“He hates himself”)


	5. 48 hours

Running a finger down the taped papers, Jason lays another thick line of oil on the makeshift canvas, creating a harsh contrast to the shades of sunset oranges and aggressive reds – something Jason accepted. Something he welcomed gracefully. 

Every movement Jason would make a set of eyes would follow – occasionally another joining. Without a motive, they would watch on in curiosity. The eyes belonged to Amór and Fay, sat in the corner of the room with a candle by their side and a blanket over them; the atmosphere couldn’t be warmer for all three of. Soft and comfortable. 

They don’t speak, not feeling the need to fill the space with useless words and unnecessary phrases. Instead a consistent hum from Jason kept the silence at bay – all parties unbothered. 

One full hand stroke completes the rough silhouette of a naked, bond woman; a chain over lapping her throat and mouth, bruised grey and blue surrounding the unforgiving shackles. Droplets of red trickle down the torso of the lady – painting ending at the hips of the woman. 

Light knocking at the door penetrates the calm, soft humming becoming harder in greeting to who they already knew was going to be Zenna. 

A slither of gold snakes it’s way through the doorway, a head tilting its way into view – tentatively. Face worn-down and tired, eyes holding something heavy, something deeper than they would ever let on. 

Lips upturned, they force a smile for the sake of the others before – something that was clearly lost in transit when it came to the rest of their posture. 

“Tea” Zenna offers, half-heartedly at best, clearly just wanting to observe the ones they cared for – said people understanding, politely inviting them further into the room. 

“No thank you, Zen” Fay replies; face open, confident and unfazed by the state that Zenna was in. Jealousy building up in the eldest ((Z)) like a unkept fire, quickly being put out when they faintly hear Jason resume humming – a different tune to the previous one. 

Light now blocked again, Zenna hovers over the shoulder of Jason, both taking a moment to admire the piece of art he had created; the taller placing their palm on the middle of their bothers back – circling a few times – as of to say “I understand.”

Amór’s head falls back against the wall, plaster dusting his hair, an echo accompanying the loud laughs of the twins. Humming abruptly stopping in favour of curses. 

“Madre folladoras” (“mother fuckers”)

“No estas perras” (“Not these bitches”) Fay uncharacteristically whispers under his breath. 

Door slamming against the opposite wall with an aggressive thump, Lisa makes her way in – forcefully. Her ignorance for the others draining out any positivity that may have been nesting inside. Collectively Kate and Lisa stop in the entrance of the room, noses upturned and eyes squinting – narrowing on Zenna before waving them off dismissively. 

“Our mother and father wanted to inform you that we are leaving for America in 48 hours.”

“That’s two days” Kate adds on unnecessarily. 

The tensions remains in the room even after the ones who invited it leave. 

Jason goes to the roof, lays back and let’s their tears run free. 

Amór holds Fay in his bed, touches communicating any words that needed to be said. 

Zenna ironed the girls clothing, static overwhelming in their head. 

No one sleeps that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment x


End file.
